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“But I’m not a baby anymore, Mom. He can’t control who I am, where I go, or who I see.” Dad’s words play in my mind ‘while you’re living under my roof’ and I realize what I have to do.
CHAPTER 8
Magik
I’m sluggish on the field during morning practice, and my throwing arm isn’t worth a dime after the shitty sleep I had. “Magik, step up your game or head back to the sheds and put your skirt on.” Coach screams at me from the sidelines as the assistant coach sets up another drill to work on my throwing motion.
Training finished thirty minutes ago, but Coach Weston ordered me to stay on the field to run through an extra hour of footwork and passing drills. Our starting center, Nate, is pissed he’s being forced to stay behind with some of the defensive line, but together we suck it up. We’re a team, it’s what we do.
Frustrated, I tear my helmet off and wipe the sweat from my forehead.
Breathe, Magik. Keep your eye on the prize.
My focus is worse than ever after telling Paris we should avoid seeing each other last night. It was a shit thing to do, but I don’t want to cause any problems for her at home.
“I take it your chat with Coach yesterday about banging his daughter didn’t go down too well,” Bambi, the wide receiver banters. At the mention of banging Paris, my blood boils.
“Never speak about Paris like that again,” I threaten, and he laughs, running into position.
“She’s really got you by the balls, Magik. I hope she’s worth it.”
Me too.
After watching plays with the guys last night and them ribbing me about being pussy-whipped, doubt has begun to seep in. What if I risk everything, only for Paris to realize I’m not the guy for her?
After practice is done and I’ve been brutally smashed on the field, a shower does nothing to calm me down. Coach Weston calls after me on my way to the parking lot. “Magik, a word please.”
Not in the mood for his bullshit, I groan my disapproval.
“What the hell has gotten into you, son? Where the fuck was your head at today?”
My training bag drops to the ground and I pull my shoulders back, ready for the onslaught. “Bad night, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. We’re three games away from the Championships, Magik. Don’t fuck it all up over some girl.”
My eyes widen at his choice of words. “Some girl?” I bite out through gritted teeth, fury racing through my veins. “That girl is your daughter, Coach. And she is not just some girl to me.”
He wipes his hand over his face. “I didn’t mean…”
“Bullshit!” Any doubt I had earlier is replaced with a do-or-die attitude. I will not be dictated to by anyone. “I’m not Markson or Fletcher who party their way through the off-season and can’t keep their dick in their pants. I’ve never given you an ounce of grief in the media, my grades are stellar, and for the most part, my game is always on point.”
Coach nods. “Yes, that is true.”
“But still I’m not good enough,” I scoff, picking up my bag.
“Nobody is good enough for my baby girl, Magik. It’s nothing personal.”
With my back to him, ready to walk away I reconsider my next move.
“You made it personal when you threatened my game time. But I’m telling you, I won’t hide my feelings for Paris any longer. She deserves a man who is willing to fight for her. A man not afraid to let the world know she’s his despite risking his life’s dream.”
“I agree.”
His words give me hope. Is he about to give us his blessing?
“She deserves all that and more, but, son, don’t risk your career for a girl. Not even one as perfect as my daughter.”
A frustrated sigh escapes me. “It’s not a risk. Paris and I want to be together, and we’re sick of hiding our relationship to keep you happy.”
